


Clean

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Facial Shaving, M/M, Pre-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been spending way too much time thinking about Auron's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo, the shaving/depilation square.

Idly spinning a blitzball in his hands, Tidus perched on the houseboat's floating bar and watched the old man on the couch read the paper. Which shouldn't have kept him occupied as long as it had, but it was drizzling outside and there was nothing much to do inside but stare at Auron. Not that it was exactly a hardship. The guy had an interesting face, not that anyone else really got to see it; the man wouldn't leave the house without coat and collar and shades, even in the heat of summer. When he'd been younger, he used to think Auron was a spy.

Auron was a different man entirely over the breakfast table, or just after. Auron had been going grey at the temples pretty much the entire time Tidus had known him, though the guy couldn't be much older than Tidus' old man would have been. He didn't smile often, and even then it was usually a smirk, and he had this habit of peering over those tinted spectacles of his at the same time just to make sure you were seeing the absolute ridiculousness of your situation as clearly as he was. It cracked Tidus up more often than not, even when it meant he was laughing at himself.

Auron had the shades on now, despite the fact that he was trying to read the paper, and if the way his scar was pulled tight was any indication, he was probably squinting at the words without even thinking about it. Tidus ought to do the nice thing and go turn on a lamp if Auron was going to be that stubborn. Instead he kept staring at Auron's face.

"What?" Auron said at last as Tidus spun and stopped the ball again. The guy didn't look nearly as intimidating without that coat or the collar to hide behind.

Oh, who was he kidding? Auron looked _just_ as intimidating. It was just that he didn't look nearly so unapproachable.

"You're scruffy," he accused, grinning as Auron glanced up at him. "When was the last time you shaved?"

"I don't know," Auron huffed, "maybe the last time it mattered?"

"Aw, c'mon. What do you look like clean-shaven?"

"You've seen me with my collar on?"

"Yeah?"

"There you go."

It took Tidus a moment to work that out, and then he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but I actually get to see you with the collar _off._ Come on. Just this once?"

The paper went down, along with Auron's brows. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why not?"

Oh yeah, way to sound his age...but Auron sighed and set the paper aside. "Are there even any razors on this boat?"

Tidus let out a whoop, jumping down from the counter and dumping the blitzball into the nearest chair. "You bet. And don't even think about backing out, old man."

"Hmph."

To be perfectly honest, he didn't know why it was so important that he see Auron without the stubble. Scruffy-looking or not, it was as much a part of Auron as his growl, that evil eye of his. Maybe he was bored or crazy. God knew Auron had accused him often enough of both.

If Auron had been talking about disposable razors, then he was right on the money there; as often as Tidus searched the mirror for proof otherwise, he still had no particular need to shave, and it drove him _nuts._ His old man had been a fucking bear, and here he was, baby-cheeked at seventeen. On the other hand, he knew just where to find one of Jecht's old straight razors, and he fished it out of the back of a drawer, still in its antique case, dusty but in perfect shape.

"Sit down," Tidus ordered when Auron appeared behind him in the doorway, flipping down the toilet seat in case Auron decided to misunderstand. "This'll just take a moment."

"You think I'm letting you near my face with that?"

Tidus grinned, slow and wide and evil. "What's the matter? Don't trust me?"

It pretty much never failed, except when it backfired, but it looked like he'd timed it right this time. Auron grumbled, but he went where he was told, watching as Tidus fussed with the shaving cream he'd bought in a fit of optimism and stropped the old razor to a wicked keenness.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

Tidus stared down at the blade in his hand, mouth twisting wryly. "My old man taught me," he said at last. "Sort of a Sunday morning thing when I was a kid. When I stopped wanting to hang out with him, he grew the beard to piss me off."

"Hn," was all Auron said at first, and then, like he couldn't stop himself, "You sure that's why he grew it?"

Tidus snorted. Auron really must trust him to say stupid shit like that when he was about to let Tidus put a razor under his chin. "Look. I know he was your friend, but he wasn't as sentimental as you make him out to be. Just leave it alone," he added before Auron could say anything else. "Anyway, you're not going to get out of this by pissing me off. Now hold still," he ordered, "and take off those glasses."

"Pick one," Auron growled, which drew a huff of unwilling laughter from Tidus.

"Glasses," he said, and Auron pulled the shades from his face, folding them and hooking them in the collar of his shirt.

It sounded stupid even to think it, but he hadn't noticed just how noticeable the scar that had taken Auron's right eye was until now, up close and with the glasses off. It didn't bother him, but he guessed he could see how it might bug Auron, so he quirked an understanding smile and came at him with the shaving cream, laughing at Auron's stoic look.

"Hey, cheer up. I'm good; you'll see."

"And it's been _how_ many years since you've done this?"

"Well, they say it's like riding a bicycle...."

"What? If you fall off, get back up again?"

"Heh. Keep that up, and I'm going to think you want me to sit on you."

Auron growled, shooting him a wounded glare that Tidus countered with a grin. "Okay," he said, "hold still."

He started at the base of Auron's neck, working his way up with long, careful strokes and stopping to clean the blade often. As nerve-wracking as it must be for the guy on the other end of the blade, he'd forgotten that it was the same for him, that stomach-clenching fear that he'd screw up and that his father--that Auron--would never trust him anywhere near him again. He'd also forgotten how nice it was to be this close, the familiar, comforting scents of shaving cream and masculine presence, the pride that he _was_ trusted enough for this, at least for now.

Auron stayed relaxed, though Tidus had expected him to be tense, watching Tidus like a puzzle Auron was trying to work out in his head. He got that way sometimes, so Tidus just ignored him, afraid his hand would waver if he put too much thought into the fact that Auron was staring at him.

He needed a better angle, so he took Auron's chin with the tips of his fingers, had him lift his face and turn a little to the side. The foam beneath his fingers was slippery, Auron's skin warm under that. It felt strange to be able to just move Auron wherever he liked, but Auron was going along with it, letting him do whatever he wanted. It was weird and scary and oddly exciting, and he wasn't sure he quite knew what to do with that.

He backed off a bit, covering his confusion by sharpening up the razor again, whether it needed it or not. "So far so good," he joked when the silence got too loud, and he was...really pretty desperate for a substitute father-figure if he was going to this much trouble, wasn't he? Either that or he was spending way too much time thinking about Auron's face.

He started with the left cheek, unmarked by anything but the stubble Auron was about to lose, thinking the guy might sort of want to...work his way up to the next part. God, Auron had cheekbones to die for, high and sharp, and Tidus ran his slick thumb over the left one and didn't figure that for weird until Auron arched a brow. "Uh...missed a...you know."

He swallowed hard. It really wasn't Sunday mornings with his father he was thinking about.

He scraped carefully over Auron's chin, hoping his face wasn't as hot as it felt as he stroked his knuckles down the now-smooth column of Auron's throat and pressed a little with his thumb to pull the skin taut. "Now do this," he said, making a funny face that rolled his lips in, and for a moment, while he was laughing, he could breathe again. Enough to take care of the bit above Auron's upper lip, though when he took the razor away, it was...different. _Auron_ was different.

The man looked younger with half his face shaved clean, not quite so careworn or reserved. He didn't look like Jecht's grumpy friend or the gruff protector Tidus had looked up to when he was younger. He was a man not nearly as old as Tidus had always assumed, alone apparently because he wanted to be, because no thirty-something guy should have a face like that and hide it the way Auron did.

And Tidus was staring. And Auron was noticing. And he was so certain it was going to get weird, only it just...didn't. Auron watched him without making a move, waiting to see what he'd do, definitely not complaining or growling at him to snap out of it.

What the hell. Bicycles, right?

Auron's hands settled on his hips when he straddled the man's lap, hitching him closer until they were both comfortable. Why had he never noticed the muscles in Auron's thighs? And he was...really just a very big guy, and the thought of that and what it sort of implied was making Tidus' stomach do funny things. Not that he was going to chicken out. There were just two things he needed to do first.

Just as quick to angle his head to Tidus' urging as before, Auron let Tidus kiss him without backing away, didn't kiss him back until Tidus teased his mouth open and made it as clear as he knew how that kissing was _on._ That was Auron being careful of him, he figured, and the thought made him grin until one big hand cupped his nape. Then Auron really _was_ kissing him, and thank God for blitzball, because it took a long time before he had to worry about breathing again.

"Nn," he moaned, pulling back reluctantly and sneaking a short, hungry lick at Auron's bottom lip before the man could get the wrong idea. "Wait," he breathed, pushing Auron back with one hand and reaching for the sink with the other. "I'm not done with you yet."

Auron settled reluctantly as Tidus retrieved the straight razor from the towel he'd laid across the countertop. Some touch-up was required; Tidus was wearing bits of Auron's shaving cream himself, which he wiped on his arm to much eye-rolling from Auron. He sort of expected to be terrified--it was one thing to take a razor to the face of someone you wanted to be proud of you, but it sort of raised the stakes once kissing was involved--but his hand was surprisingly steady as he turned Auron's chin, faced his bad side towards him.

He moved slowly, not just because he knew Auron was touchy about his scars but because he couldn't see where they started under all the foam. It didn't occur to him that Auron couldn't even see what he was _doing_ until he heard the man breathe out a slow sigh, relaxing under him at the first stroke of the blade.

As hard as he was concentrating on not messing up, he almost didn't notice the hand that settled on his stomach, big and callused and warm. Stroking when he didn't squirm away, the backs of strong fingers slipping inside the waist of his pants. "Um," he muttered, distracted, "working, here."

"Am I disturbing you?"

There were hands at his belt, and damn it, Auron had to be suicidal or crazy, but--

"No," he said, voice cracking embarrassingly, and then he _couldn't_ back down.

"Hn."

Oh, God, not that _sound._ Not when Auron was popping the buttons on his fly, cupping him through his boxers with a sliding squeeze that made him close his eyes and catch a halting, openmouthed breath. Not when Auron made that sound all the time, and the next time the man 'hn'ed' at him, he was going to end up thinking of _this._

He ran the blade over the point of Auron's jaw, just under his ear, and tried not to think about the fact that Auron couldn't see how wild he must look, wide-eyed and dazed, though surely he could feel it. He was a solid block of tension across Auron's lap, trying desperately not to jerk in time with the milking pulls of Auron's fist, though the muscles in his legs tightened up on each stroke. And he was panting, making high, strangled sounds in the back of his throat, but it wasn't Auron who called for a time-out--it was Tidus who broke, wrapping his left hand around Auron's nape and throwing his right arm over Auron's shoulder, holding the razor out as far from both of them as he could while he twitched and shook in Auron's lap.

"Ngh," he managed at last, thumping Auron on the shoulder with his empty fist. "You're just delaying the inevitable, you know."

Auron laughed at him, smugly enough Tidus immediately began plotting revenge. "Be my guest."

Right. Like he was going to be able to concentrate with come-sticky shorts.

Only once he lifted the razor again, he found out it was easy.

Light, careful strokes bared the rest of Auron's jaw, the lower edge of the big scar that bisected his face from cheek to brow emerging slowly. He was ready to jerk his hand away, certain Auron would flinch when he touched it, but all the man did was tighten his hands on Tidus' hips, thumbs stroking back and forth as if it helped him to focus.

"There," Tidus said at last, wiping a bit of foam from Auron's cheek and waiting for the man to face him. "All done."

"All?" Auron asked, smirking a bit even as he was pulling Tidus forward, now that he didn't need the distance to work. The press of him, thick and hard, reminded Tidus that Auron hadn't come yet, that there were ways and _ways_ of getting revenge.

"Um. Not that bit," Titus said quickly, grinning back. It was funny; the way his dad had hounded him, you'd think he'd be more sensitive, but growly, sarcastic Auron teased him mercilessly, and he couldn't get enough of it. "How's it feel?"

Auron ran a hand over his face, brows arching in respect, then paused, eyeing him with a slow, wicked smile. "You tell me."

Auron kissed him again, and Tidus felt the difference.

No beard-burn this time.

Cool.


End file.
